


The Ghosts of Harrenhal

by lyrawinter



Series: The Lord of Harrenhal [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Gothic Romance, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: "There are rumours that Harrenhal is haunted."
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Series: The Lord of Harrenhal [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025607
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> This is Part 2 of The Lord of Harrenhal series. Just like Part 1 this isn't a whole story. Think of it more like an episode from a TV series. While I was writing it I listened to these songs:
> 
>  _Tili Tili Bom_ (cover by Ashley Serena). This song is very spooky. It was perfect to create the mood for the first chapter.
> 
>  _The Willow Maid_ by Erutan.
> 
>  _Jabberwocky_ by Erutan.
> 
> English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading!

The thick curtains were slightly ajar, just enough so the moonlight streamed into the room. The darkness reminded her of the narrow room of the orphanage; the room the director used to punish those who broke his rules.

 _Don’t think of the orphanage. You’re not there anymore. You’ll never go back there,_ Sansa reminded herself.

She was lying in bed; she’d pulled the sheet and the heavy blanket over her chin in an attempt to seek comfort.

Her eyes had adjusted to the semi darkness and now she could distinguish the shapes of the furniture, and the door. If for some reason she needed to get out of the room, she wouldn’t have to grope for the knob.

But why would she need to get out of the room in the middle of the night?

Her own mind seemed to answer her question: Tom’s and Brendan’s words echoed in her head. The strange events both men had witnessed: the shadows; the rocking chairs; the porcelain figurines that had shattered in the living room.

If Harrenhal was really haunted… if there were ghosts trapped in the castle…. What if they hadn’t taken Sansa’s arrival well at all? What if they were furious indeed? The ghosts may see her as another intruder, another person they must expel.

She swallowed thickly and tried to sharpen her ear to listen even the most quiet sounds in the castle. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sheet that covered the mattress, and she braced herself for disturbing noises: creepy laughter, the floor creaking under invisible footsteps, whispers in her ear... However, the wood crackling and popping in the fireplace was the only sound she could hear.

She breathed out. 

Ann, the maid, had added several logs to the fireplace shortly after Lord Baelish escorted her to her room. Perhaps he’d asked her to pay Sansa a visit to see if she needed something before getting ready for bed. 

Under other circumstances, the wood crackling would be a comforting sound, one that would lull her into sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, Sansa could only think about ghosts. She almost regretted asking Brendan and Tom to tell her about the rumors. She felt like when she was in the orphanage and the cook told her about the articles about the paranormal she’d read in the monthly magazine she was subscribed to. That mix of fascination and fear; the eagerness to know and the wish to stop her mind from running wild with scary images. 

Her mind had always been too vivid. 

Her curiosity could play a dirty trick on her; she’d always known. Yet, she couldn’t help but be drawn into the unknown. Did the legends about ghosts hold any truth?

If so, were the people in Harroway correct? Was Harrenhal haunted? Had she, the girl who was fascinated by ghost stories but wouldn’t want to have a paranormal experience in real life, ended up living in a castle full of spirits?

If Fate existed, it must love irony.

She felt like a protagonist of Henrietta Mosse’s or Ann Radcliffe’s novels. A young girl thrusted into a gothic setting that hid many secrets… A space she had to share with the owner, a mysterious man that could be her downfall...

Sansa couldn’t lie to herself: she found Lord Baelish handsome, with his gray temples that gave him an elegant look, and the way his gray-green eyes changed as the emotions flashed across his face. In the darkness of her room, she allowed herself to think of him. Was he already asleep? Or was he thinking of her too? Was she how he expected her to be? He seemed happy that she was here. He didn’t seem to regret hiring her as his translator. 

She’d like to know what he’d thought when he’d seen her getting out of the carriage, when he’d laid his eyes on her. Had he thought of her mother? Did she remind him of Catelyn? Had her arrival brought back unpleasant memories? Did Lord Baelish still love her mother?

Sansa rolled onto her side, facing the night stand. Her toes brushed against the hot-water bottle at the foot of her bed. Ann had placed it there before leaving. It hasn’t lost its heat yet. Hot-water bottles could stay warm for a few hours, but it looked like Sansa would be still awake by the time it turned cold.

She was tired, but her mind was restless. Today’s events flashed before her eyes; fragments of images and words she’d exchanged with Tom, Brendan, Ann and Lord Baelish. She was revisiting those events, over and over again, as if trying to solve a puzzle, as if this way she could learn how her life would be from now on.

She knew it was pointless, but she couldn’t help herself.

She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. She needed to make her mind blank. She needed to sleep.

A sound made her blood run cold. It hadn’t been the old furniture or the wind howling outside. 

Someone was humming. A high pitched voice, like a child’s voice. The melody reminded her of a lullaby.

It… it seemed to come from the end of the corridor, an area where there were only empty rooms.

Lord Baelish’s and her room were the only ones occupied on this floor; the servants and the guards slept downstairs. If there was something else here, they must have climbed the stairs, since there was no other way to access this floor, at least that she knew. Perhaps there was a secret passage that led to one of the rooms, but Sansa hadn’t heard any stone wall sliding back nor had she heard a door opening.

It almost seemed as if whoever (or whatever) was humming that song had materialized suddenly.

A chill ran down her spine. Was this what Tom and Brendan were referring to? 

The voice grew stronger. Whoever was out there was walking along the corridor.

They were coming closer.

Sansa curled up and pulled up the blanket to cover her mouth and nose. Only her eyes, forehead and the top of her head were visible now. She thought of calling Lord Baelish, but what if it was her imagination playing tricks on her? What if it was the wind or an animal wandering outside? Cats sometimes sounded like babies, she tried to reassure herself.

Were there stray cats in Harrenhal?

And most importantly:

Was there a stray cat standing on the other side of her door right now?

Suddenly, the humming stopped.

Sansa’s eyes fell upon the door. _Please, whoever you are, don’t turn the knob. Please. Please. Please._

What were they waiting for? 

A disturbing possibility entered her mind. 

What if they were already in the room? If they were invisible and could walk through walls...

The voice sounded again. Sansa let out a relieved sigh: it still sounded on the other side of the door. However, now it wasn’t just humming. It was singing.

Sansa pulled the blanket back slightly, though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear what they were saying.

_hush hush  
don’t wake him up  
he’s sleeping_

_hush hush  
don’t believe his pretty lies  
he’s pretending_

_hush hush  
he thrives in a cursed place  
where the creatures slid among the shadows_

_hush hush  
now you know  
the reason why  
you might see things  
out of the corner of your eye_

_hush hush  
he put his heart away  
so it wouldn't trouble him_

_hush hush  
he cannot feel_

_hush hush  
please  
don’t trust him_

_hush hush  
oh, no  
oh, no  
I’m afraid  
that  
now it’s late_

_hush hush  
he’s found  
a snow maiden_

_hush hush  
he wants to own her_

_hush hush  
and  
he’s going to get her  
yes  
yes_

_hush hush  
it’s best to run away_

The word away sounded in her right ear, and a breath like icy breeze tickled her cheek.

Sansa froze.

The air was suddenly charged, and she knew that she wasn’t alone.

She could feel a presence leaning over her; whoever it was, it didn’t belong to this world, she was certain. She didn’t dare to turn her head. She didn’t know whether the presence was visible, but she almost preferred not to find it out. 

Something caught her attention on the nightstand. A silver light.

It came from the mockingbird pin. 

After dinner, she’d left Lord Baelish’s cloak in her wardrobe, but first she had unhooked the mockingbird pin and placed it on the nightstand. She’d intended to give both the cloak and the mockingbird pin back to him tomorrow. Lord Baelish had bought a few cloaks for her, so she didn’t need to keep his. 

The mockingbird pin began to spin as a peg-top, and the silver light grew more intense, as if the moon’s rays had seeped through the metal bird. The light was so intense that it almost hurt. Sansa shut her eyes. She felt trapped. This was much more frightening than any article on paranormal events she’d ever read.

Had Lord Baelish ever witnessed what his mockingbird pin could do? If so, had he wanted her to see it for herself? Was that the reason why he’d insisted that she kept it tonight?

The tapping stopped.

Sansa opened her eyes, fearing what she might see next. What was she going to do if she caught a creature from another world standing beside the nightstand?

She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. The mockingbird pin wasn’t shining or spinning anymore, and now the only sound she could hear was the wood burning in the fireplace.

Yet Sansa didn’t move. 

Several minutes passed before her breath returned to normal. She stretched out her legs slowly, and listened.

Nothing.

It couldn’t have been her imagination, she told herself. Just like she knew it hadn’t been her imagination either when she’d realized the mockingbird pin was warm, after Lord Baelish escorted her to her room before dinner. 

There was something off about the mockingbird pin. It wasn’t just an expensive pin. It held some supernatural power, or else a supernatural force was using it. But what was their purpose? Were they trying to send her a message?

She hadn’t imagined the song. Someone had sung it, but who? It had sounded like a child’s voice, but it wasn’t the kind of song one would sing to children. The lyrics seemed straight out from a creepy fairy tale.

The last line echoed in her mind, making her shudder.

_It’s best to run away._

What did it mean? Was the voice trying to scare her?

Or was it warning her against staying in the castle?


	2. Chapter 2

The wood from the fireplace had turned into ashes when Sansa opened her eyes. Pale sun’s rays entered the room. What time was it? It must be early. Was Lord Baelish awake as well? It mustn't be breakfast time yet or else Ann would have knocked on her door.

She rolled onto her back. The hot-water bottle was cold, so were the sheets.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again.

She sat up in bed.

Now, in the daylight, last night’s events looked unreal. For the first time, she wondered if it had been just a dream influenced by her conversation with Tom and Brendan.

Her eyes fell upon the mockingbird pin, still on the nightstand.

Tentatively, she shifted closer and touched it. The metal was cold as it should be, but Sansa was still wary. Perhaps the paranormal events only happened at night.

Last night, after the mockingbird pin stopped shining and spinning, she’d been tempted to go to Lord Baelish’s room and tell him what had happened, but she’d finally decided against it. If Lord Baelish hadn’t heard that song, he might not believe her. It was possible that the supernatural forces had never tried to contact him. Sansa didn’t want him to believe that she was a scared and impressionable girl nor did she want him to suspect that Brendan and Tom had told her about the rumors and the strange things that happened in the castle. She didn’t know if Lord Baelish might dismiss them if he learned that they’d told her about them. He wouldn’t be happy if he learned that Sansa knew about the maid that had fallen down the stairs.

Sansa wondered if the maid had told the police everything or if she’d hidden some information from them. According to Brendan and Tom, the maid had affirmed that someone had pushed her, so apparently she didn’t care about the possibility that someone questioned her sanity.

Though it was one thing to say that you thought that someone had pushed down the stairs and it was another thing to say that you had heard a ghostly voice singing a creepy song. 

Sansa sighed. No, definitely she couldn’t tell anyone about what had happened last night.

She decided to wait for Ann to come to her bedroom. Sansa didn’t want to wander along the castle while everyone else was still getting ready for the day.

In the meantime, she combed her hair in front of the mirror. The comb slid through her curls easily. Her hair hadn’t felt so soft in years, so healthy and bright. It was a welcome change, but one that Sansa still had to get used to.

She was watching the sun reflecting in one of her curls when she heard a knock at her door.

“Come in.”

Ann entered her room, carrying a pot filled with water and a small towel.

“Good morning, my lady. I hope you slept well.”

“Good morning, Ann.” Sansa paused for a moment, hoping the maid wouldn’t detect the lie in her voice. “Yes, thank you.” And she added quickly: “Is Lord Baelish already awake?”

“Oh, yes, my lady. He’s an early riser. He likes to eat his breakfast before the sun appears on the horizon and he usually takes a walk afterwards.”

“Oh.” And to think that she’d been hesitant about wandering along the castle in the early hours. If he ate his breakfast outside of his room, Sansa could join him the days when she woke early. That was it, if he liked.

She cleaned up her face and chose a pale blue dress. She asked Ann to put her hair in a loose braid.

“You look stunning, lady Sansa,” Ann told her when she finished. The smile on her face looked so genuine and happy that it made Sansa smile in return.

“Thank you.” 

She ate her breakfast in the kitchen, as Ann peeled potatoes. The kitchen was pleasantly warm. The cook had used the oven to bake bread in the early morning and the fireplace was lit. 

Sansa couldn’t meet the cook because she’d left the castle after baking the bread. Ann told her that the cook (Mrs Anvers) had gone to Harroway to buy groceries. 

“Mrs Anvers likes to buy groceries herself,” Ann explained as she placed a potato on a glass tray. “But she’ll return by lunch. She also likes to make sure every meal is cooked perfectly.”

Mrs Anvers seemed to be a perfectionist person and judging by Ann’s tone of voice, there must have been some friction between them.

Sansa decided to change the subject:

“I’d like to take a walk around the surroundings of the castle,” she said.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, my lady.” The maid looked hesitant. “There are wild animals in the area.” She turned her head to the window and looked back at her. “Lord Baelish must have arrived already. He’s probably in the back garden watching the roses and the stone statues.”

“Stone statues?”

“Yes.” Ann swallowed and shifted her weight. “Lord Baelish is very proud of his garden, my lady. Here there are some of the best roses in the area, and the artificial lake is lovely. Lord Baelish loves taking a boat ride across it.”

“Ann, you haven’t answered my question.” Sansa offered her a kind smile. “It’s alright. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this conversation.”

The maid sighed.

“It’s just that those sculptures make me feel nervous, my lady. I know it’s just blocks of stone, but it feels as if they were miserable.” She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh. “None of their faces are visible, so you can’t see their expressions, but their positions... Some of them cover their faces as if they were sobbing, others are semi-lying beside a fountain or a bench. I know it’s foolish.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They look like the kind of statues that are in the cemeteries.”

“Yes.” Ann nodded, and Sansa noticed she looked relieved, as if these were her exact thoughts and was glad that someone else had said them aloud.

“Do you think Lord Baelish would be annoyed if I go see if he’s in there?” Sansa asked tentatively.

To her surprise, Ann smiled and opened a drawer. She pulled out a small iron key and handed it over to Sansa.

“This is the key that opens the door to the garden. Lord Baelish told me to give it to you if you asked to visit the garden.

Despite its small size, the key was heavy against Sansa’s hand. She looked at Ann, curious as to why one would keep the door to the garden closed. It was not like the statues could leave, couldn’t they?

“Where is the door?” she asked Ann.

The maid walked over to a curtain that covered a whole wall, beside a cupboard. Sansa hadn’t paid attention to it until now.

Ann opened the curtain, revealing a white door, smaller than the others Sansa had seen in the castle. In fact, she would have to lower her head to cross the threshold.

She rose from her chair, her chest fluttering in anticipation at the thought of discovering a place that looked so mysterious, but especially at the thought of seeing Lord Baelish again.


	3. Chapter 3

The garden smelled of rain and fresh mosh and damp stone.

And it smelled of roses too. There were rose bushes everywhere, among the statues and the hedges and the wooden benches.

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, partly because she was overwhelmed at the sight and partly because she wanted to take a moment to enjoy the scent.

She didn’t know how long it had passed, but it must be much more than a few minutes because her hands had started to feel numb. She was wearing a cloak, but she’d forgotten her gloves.

A voice startled her:

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” 

She opened her eyes and turned her head. Lord Baelish was standing beside her, a smirk upon his lips. He was wearing a black coat and gloves, but she could see the cuffs of his shirt over his gloves. The cuffs were golden and patterned with geometrical designs in dark brown. In his right hand, he was holding a big red rose. 

She met his eyes again. She hadn’t heard him approaching. He was looking at her as if waiting for her to say something. She lifted her hand and offered him the key.

He shook his head, chuckling.

“Keep it. This way you can come here whenever you want…” His voice trailed off. “Except at night.”

Sansa knitted her brows.

“Why can't I come here at night?”

He gave her a small smile.

“You could get lost,” he answered. “The garden is larger than it seems, and the statues can be a bit unnerving, especially in the semi darkness where you can’t distinguish the shapes so clearly.”

 _You might see things out of the corner of your eye._ The song echoed in her head.

Lord Baelish was watching her face attentively, almost as if expecting to find out if Sansa had already witnessed something strange in Harrenhal. 

She lifted her chin, determined not to give anything away. Not yet. First she needed to know if she could trust him.

A small smile crossed his lips, but Sansa didn’t know what conclusion he’d reached. She gave a small jump when he reached for her hair. She perceived a faint scent of mint. Gently, Lord Baelish placed the rose in her hair, near her left ear. She held her breath when his thumb brushed against her earlobe as he lowered his arm, even though he was wearing gloves.

“Here. Now you look like a forest nymph,” he whispered.

When their eyes met, Sansa saw a dazed expression in his. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time, and it was strange but among the delight she could notice in his gaze there was also fear, as if he were afraid of his own reaction. 

“Lord Baelish…” Her heart was pounding fast in her chest. 

“Call me Petyr.” He took her hands in his and frowned when he saw her knuckles were a little red from the cold. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “I can give you a tour of the garden later, when it’s hotter.” He smiled and went on: “In the meantime I shall show you the stables, if you like.”

Sansa’s face lit up. She was looking forward to meeting the horses. In truth she wouldn’t mind going horse riding even though she hadn’t any riding suits yet.

“I’d love to,” she told him, excited.

His smile widened.

“But first, let’s go fetch your gloves,” he added.

Sansa laughed.

“Alright,” she agreed.


End file.
